In the end
by Rhodanthe-Roseora
Summary: How does being destroyed by the one you worked so hard to revive feel? (Oh gods what did I write last night?)


He remembered the second his master destroyed him. He remembered it so clearly, the agony as he felt as his body burned, broke and dissipated into nothingness.

He could only imagine what the same end would be like for a more fragile being.

It was enough to break any heros soul into tiny, shattered remains.

He could see the little skychild in the endless watery graveyard. His chest was pounding, eyes half shut from exhaustion, sword gripped so tightly his knuckles were turning white and blisters were forming on his hand under his gloves.

Ghirahim sighed. He waited, his anger slowly building up inside of him.

The skychild let out a cry, the blood seeping from his chest. A few splatters of blood swirled in the water as he began coughing violenty.

Demise strutted foreward as if he was about to crush a bug. A pathetic little green bug.

Link turned away, eyes shut and body braced for the inevitable.

Ghirahim almost laughed as he saw a tear trickling down the pale, bloody cheek.

"You destroyed so many lives... You destroyed your own servant..." Link coughed, looking up. His anger flared as he began to stand.

"Ghirahim... He worked so hard... To... To..." He was interrupted by a horrible choking sound as more red liquid spilled from his mouth, staining his lovely green tunic.

"To revive you... And you don't even..." The hero lurched forward suddenly, making a pathetic and clumsy attempt at a stab. Link was knocked back to the ground again, groaning as the water began to flow redder and redder with each passing second.

What was this? Was the skychild defending him? Was he getting all emotional?

Ghirahim stepped forward, his feet not making so much as a ripple on the watery ground. The blue ocean in the skychilds eyes was slowly draining, as the bloody water slowly snuffed out the flame of his life.

"Skychild, stand up." Ghirahim said, putting his arms on his hips.

"I said, stand up. Are you disobeying your lord?" He asked, before he closed his eyes a second. Of course the boy couldn't hear him.

However, this needed to be ended once and for all. Ghirahim put his arms up, summoning all the power he possible could as Demise did the same. In all, this was turning out to be an epic demon battle. Thunder roared in the sky, as the hero sobbed pathetically into is hat as he waited for the strike that never came.

The boy looked up as he realised Demise just wanted to play with his victim some more. It was cruel, twisted entertainment that would make any being with a souls stomach churn with discust and fear.

The spirit, Fi materialised from the hilt of the sword on the ground. She stared blankly in Ghirahims direction, almost as if she could sense he was there, his power building up to immense proportions.

"Master it seems we cannot charge a skyward strike here..." She said, reaching a hand out to her master, seemingly oblivious of his state. The skychild whipped a bottle of red jelly out of his pocked, downing the substance in a single gulp as he forced his frail, broken body to its feet.

"Well we shall see about that..." Ghirahim smirked at her comment, his arms shaking as his ghostly form took on the pressure of the power he was building up.

He let out a scream, both of triumph and exhaustion as he let forth the final burst of magical energy. His combined with the heros remaining strengh should see the worlds safety. As his ghostly form began to disintigrate he sighed again. This time in peace as his eyes closed, he felt no more pain. The last things his concious form registered was the skychilds blade glowing with strange blue energy, the demon Demise falling to his back. The spirit stared straight at him. From her mouth came three words.

"Thank you Ghirahim."

The world was saved from Demise and his destruction.

Ghirahim could finally be free. He could finally feel peace, and rest his exhausted spirit.

In the end, there was good and there was bad, but also shades of grey. The ones who would work for whoever they deemed to be right, not good. Ghirahim had made a mistake.

He was only human after all. Or should we say, only a being with a soul who would learn from his mistakes. Demon or human, the world and all its people and animals knew peace, prosperity and life once again.


End file.
